Stolen Magic(44)

But the brunka wouldn’t admit to lying. ITs worry mounted that some ill had befallen His Lordship.

“Tell me what you told him.”

Brunka Arnulf ticked the items off on his fingers. “Dror may be angry at his family for sending him away. He’s gone to be a bee at the Oase. The barber-surgeon Mistress Sirka left, too. I was told that he and she were to be wed, but I don’t know the truth of that.”

IT wondered if Dror-bee had been feigning indifference toward her.

“No one here is angry at me or brunkas in general or bees or Zertrum itself. Master Uwald and Master Tuomo and his sons are off the mountain.”

“His sons, too? You are certain of this as unassailable fact?”

“I am.”

Master Tuomo lied about his sons? “You have told me who the thief is, which His Lordship would have done long ago if he had returned to me. If you delayed him or caused harm to come to him and the mountain spews, the destruction will be on your head.”

Brunka Arnulf raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, on your head.” ITs smoke turned rosy. “On the thief’s head first and yours second, and, should you survive, a dragon’s wrath will be on your entire person, not merely your head.” IT rose in the air and flew south.

Tuomo, IT thought, you can give Elodie mansioning lessons. The smoke trailing behind IT glowed crimson. Did you have an ally? Who?

IT soared on, belching fire.





CHAPTER FORTY



The noon meal had not appeared, but now, midafternoon, Ludda-bee brought a loaded tray out from the kitchen, followed by a bee ringing a bell.

No one moved toward the table.

Clatter! Ludda-bee set down her tray, wrested the bell from her companion, and rang it furiously. “I did not cook for people to fast.”

Six pairs of bees entered through both of the interior doors, coming from their searches of the many chambers of the Oase. Soon everyone was seated. Ludda-bee took the stool at the bottom of the table, facing—a long way away—the high brunka, each of them half a table length from Elodie, who sat between Albin and Master Robbie.

The rainbow colors on the entry door had not diminished. Elodie wondered if her masteress or His Lordship were hungry and imagining a meal such as this, another feast: beets again, these pickled; pottage; bread; a wheel of cheese, of course; hard-boiled eggs rolled in oil and chopped rosemary; dried meats; and a savory bread pudding.

She ignored the lump in her throat and smiled at Albin. “What do you think of Masteress Meenore?”

“I think the heroine had an adventure in Two Castles, and her masteress was part of it.” He helped her to the pudding. “Home will be dull after that. I wonder if she’ll be sorry when we get there.”

“Sorry? I can’t wait.” She whispered in his ear, “But I won’t stay.” Then, in an ordinary voice: “I even miss the geese.”

He squeezed her shoulder. They both knew she hated herding. He’d told her she wasn’t meant for a quiet life.

Master Robbie shared a chunk of dried roast boar from his bowl with her. In return she passed him a heaping spoonful of beets.

She wished the table were round so she could view everyone. As it was, she couldn’t see most of those on the side with her. She had a partial view of Master Uwald only because Master Robbie didn’t entirely block him, and she saw that his face was still locked in anger.

Johan-bee, who had been replaced as a door guard, and Dror-bee, with Mistress Sirka faithfully at his side, sat across from Elodie. As she watched, Mistress Sirka served Dror-bee pottage and slipped in the bolus, the herbal love pill that Master Robbie had seen. Or this one could be made of other herbs, poisonous ones. She did it cleverly, holding the palm of her hand level with the lip of the bowl. High Brunka Marya, staring into space above everyone’s head, didn’t see. Only Johan-bee’s eyes and Elodie’s were on Mistress Sirka’s hand.

He said nothing.

Should she let it go, too, and see what happened, in case it might be connected with the theft of the Replica?

No! She couldn’t let him be poisoned. What to do?

Dror-bee lifted his spoon.

“Dror-bee?”

The spoon hovered above his bowl. “Yes?”

What to say? “Er . . . does your father’s farm grow cabbages?”

“Yes.” The spoon didn’t move, but it wouldn’t stay still forever.

“What’s the biggest one he ever grew?” Farmers competed.

He put down the spoon and smiled and made a circle of his arms out across Mistress Sirka’s face and the face of the bee next to him. “It weighed more than you.”

Master Robbie stared at Elodie. Albin grinned, certainly knowing she was mansioning.

But what to do? Mmm.

He picked up his spoon.

She picked up an egg. Let this work! It didn’t have far to travel.

He dipped his spoon into the bowl.

She squeezed the oiled egg, which flew out of her hand, across the table, and landed in his pottage, splashing broth, herbs, beans, and shreds of meat.





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE



Count Jonty Um was able to go faster as himself than as a horse. His ogre brain could make quicker judgments about where to step; his long legs fairly ate up the ground, the ankle-deep snow hardly an obstacle. He had to stop only once, when the ground shook and stones popped through the snow. But the paroxysm lasted only a few seconds. The earth settled, and he was off again, his heart drumming in his ears.